Disclaimer: I do not own D.N. Angel, but I do have the right to make fan fiction of it. Which is what this is, genius. Sheesh, the very name of the site should be a form of disclaiming. (Readers, please don't be offended. I'm just ranting to the ones who have the power to take this down if it doesn't have a proper disclaimer typed on it.)
)*(Hikari: Hidden Within The Fake Light)*(
By: Fireflower19
Full Summary: The Hikari's curse comes to bloom in an unknown time line, right during a period of tragic suffering. A frail teenage heart mourns the loss of his first love, having just realized that the accident earlier took away more than he'll ever come to know now. Chaotic thoughts and feelings make him sick, or so he thinks. What had his worthless father abandoned his mother to all those fourteen years ago? Hibine is about to find out what it means to be from the family of the Hikari.
WARNINGS: IMPLIED SHOUNEN-AI, MENTIONINGS OF SUICIDE, TRAGEDY.
A/N: Krad, or "the voice" seems to want Hibine to fall to his death in this piece. I'll elaborate now and inform everyone that "the voice" does not want Hibine to necessarily fall to his death, but rather for Hibine to give up on life. It's another ploy to take over the Hikari host's body. Ever heard that if you dream that you die then your brain will actually think you've died and... well, you die? Krad is trying to pull something similar to this.
-)*(-
"Life is a fleeting thing."
I've heard the saying before, and I believe it. You're out having one of the best times of your life, and then... someone close to you suddenly dies from some unforeseen accident. And as you're still in shock at the sight of devastation and gore, another someone nearby will scream. Their cries will haunt you, turning even your bones cold as chaos erupts all around. The sounds never fail to echo back to you over the next few hours. It is firmly burned into your memory for the remainder of your time.
I often gaze up at the stars and wonder if our life's energy is similar to theirs. Small, yet bright in the eternal flow, are our lives predetermined? For a star's light will keep shining to Earth, even once its illuminating mass has decided to burn out, leaving the last of the light to finish traveling down to us. Are our lives like that? Stuck in some eternal web; shining, but its end is already decided by Fate and it's just a matter of time before it catches up to us?
I hate life because of this, but you can't live without it. It's the highest form of irony, filled with baited mockery.
But, what can we do?
I sit in the dark with my chin on my knees, hidden towards the top of a tall clock tower as rain drips off the slight overhang in constant rivulets. I've often thought that this small area was specially built to house a statue of some kind, but one has never been placed to block my entry here.
"There are no stars tonight," I voice just to break the continuous hum of the near silence – the pattering of the breaking clouds is not loud enough on the concrete above.
I unwind one slim arm from around my gathered legs to reach out and touch upon the wetness passing so closely by me, unfurling my hand and letting the clear coolness collect in my palm's center. A small pool soon forms within the small dip. Water continuously falls into it, creating overflowing streams between my long fingers and off the sides of my hand. Some of the liquid splashes beads onto the skin of my wrist. They build as more water splashes, then slide off in a way that reminds me of shed tears.
"I don't understand you," I say, glancing at the revealed tears of nature.
Sadness is a part of life, but why? Why must we accept this and the pain that follows? Are we to just go on without any qualms from misery?
Fury ignites within, and I violently fist my hand, forcing the "tears" away. I don't want them. But, that doesn't stop the rise of heat building behind my eyes, nor does it keep my breath from catching in my throat.
A choked sob escapes before I can catch it.
I reel in my moist hand and wipe the coolness all over my fevered face, barely keeping hold of myself; barely keeping from screaming out my frustrations.
"I just don't understand," I whisper, fearing that if I talk too loudly I'll hear the shakiness undoubtedly now present within my voice. But I need to hear something! This almost droning silence is driving me crazy, yet there's no way that I can appear before company right now.
I've got to piece myself back together. Now.
I sniff once and rein in the tears before they can leak from my eyes. Breathing deeply, I feel as though I'm pulling all the hurt back inside me, locking it away. My chest feels tight and heavy with it, but I don't give in. I don't want the helpless feelings to defeat me. Because, if the emotions are unleashed, they just won't stop until they're satisfied.
"There has to be a reason for suffering, I'm just not seeing it." My cool, wet hand leaves behind shining trails on my cheeks as I splay it to cover my brow.
Maybe I should make everyone else suffer. Then things might become clear as I watch them handle it.
The thought crosses my mind, unbidden, and I feel worse for just thinking it. Removing my hand from my still too-warm features, I blink; numbly stunned at myself. As horrible as the concept is, I feel a strange sort of relief ebbing through me.
If I could make others understand just what it is that I'm going through...
I rocket forward to my knees, slamming my hands flat to the bricks of the tower underneath, making a startling loud slap against the hard surface and causing some pigeons in the belfry above to coo agitatedly and flap.
The position unveils the better portion of my head and neck to the rainy night. Water droplets run into my hair as it slips from around my shoulders. The color of the wet locks are inscrutable in the darkness. Like the nearest objects, it only has the barest glimmer of an outline from the glaring lights of down below.
The pouring coolness turning quickly colder does nothing to clear my disturbed mind.
Midnight comes and suddenly a course of motorized bells ring. The pigeons scatter in absolute fright. Normally, the bells do not work. In fact, they were broken, or so I'd thought for all these long years.
The clanking noise is deafening. I focus, drawn to the clock's hands further below on the tower. I can barely see them on the giant numbered face at my perched angle.
I glance at the few people outside scurrying along with their umbrellas, unaware that I'm watching them pass over the shiny, puddle-filled cobblestoned streets. Being a hundred or so feet up in the air gives me a most impressive view.
I tilt my head some to overlook the rows of roofs lining further away on either side of me just as the oppressive twelve chimes finally cease. They leave a heavy quietness pressing against my skull. Many windows of the town are still lit. Since it is a holiday, most people are still up; still celebrating. I can't help but curse. Earlier, I had been a part of all that, too. And not just me alone.
"I'd healed, but now... I've been slapped right back down by the same scenario all over again."
Another death has ripped a part of my soul out.
I look sorrowfully up to study the rolling clouds above, allowing my wet hair to plaster against my face. It's comforting – almost protective like a blanket, but hardly comfortable with its icy weight.
Black and dark gray blemish the sky overhead, towering like giant, shadowed hills. The wind remains mostly calm, but tension spins higher in the air. I lick some running water off my lips and taste the sharp tang of electricity mixed within it. It will soon be lightning.
Nervously, I glance back to the far away cobblestones. I've got to be quick about getting down to them, but aside from jumping (which would be suicide), that isn't going to happen. You see, the only way to get back inside the clock tower is to take time to scale the outside wall of it and carefully maneuver on some of the protruding bricks to a window. But, that will be impossible for me to do if it lightnings. I can't help but jump horribly every time it flashes.
An inner voice seems to whisper sweetly, Death may be the reprieve you need.
I scrunch my eyes tightly shut. There's no way I just contemplated killing myself. I'm not that screwed up. Gulping, I shake my head fast, then open my eyes to the stones below. They look slick, hard and slightly inviting. I give myself another firm shake, flinging rainwater around everywhere.
Death might be as peaceful as a deep sleep. You would only have an instant of broken bones. It is nothing you have not suffered before. Maybe you would get to see all of your family and friends again.
"Please, shut up!" I yell at myself like some idiot.
Thunder claps unexpectedly. Startled, I go almost completely limp with fear, just about lowering headfirst over my small ledge; having almost no control over my suddenly weak muscles. Gravity nearly takes me, but I grip and pull myself back onto my little precipice under the overhang, immediately collapsing into a ball, feeling the old panic welling up. It bubbles in my chest, making me even more weak and shaky.
I can't be up here when it's lightning! I just can't! Please, no!
I've had this horrible fear ever since I was little. Mother Nature has given me the impression that she likes using me for target practice. Growing up, I'd come close to being struck by lightning on three different occasions, including twice being thrown backwards by its tremendous force.
Nausea begins mixing with the rising tide of panic, forcing me out of my curled position, least I puke. I take in the sight of the pouring sky, listening to the drumming rain, trying to feign indifference to my turbulent emotions. I just know I'm going to shatter when it-
A sudden blinding flash floods everything in light, making me nearly bolt, but the only direction to go is down. If I had been thinking straight an hour ago, I wouldn't have made the dangerous climb to here like some perched gargoyle! And in the slick rain, no less! But, this is my secret spot and...
Delayed thunder resounds, and it's loud, sounding as if it originated from directly above. The vibrations of it rumble harshly. It's pathetic that I wince and cover my head with my arms. I curse the fact that there is not enough room to turn around to face into the bricks behind me. This little place is shaped like a 'U'. There is enough space to move forward and backward a little, but not nearly enough to twist sideways. Perhaps if there was more height available, but as it is, my knees and legs block me.
The wind picks up some, blowing lightly and coldly over me. Its coldness touches upon my damp t-shirt and what parts of my jeans are exposed, creeping like some ghost. I've always had a somewhat out-there and vivid imagination, and sometimes I've relied on it to bring comfort to me, but it's not helping me any now.
Come on, what more do you need? Let the weather distract you and just jump. Then it all will be out of your hands and over quickly. You can escape – from here and more...
I groan and wrap my arms tighter around my head, hoping to block my ears. Sadly, I've not only lost my mind, but my I.Q. as well. A voice inside your head is not a physical sound wave that can be stopped by muffling your hearing.
What is the point of living, really? You have already felt the desire to make others suffer. You know you want to make them hurt. You know it is wrong, but you agree that it would be so sweet. And what are you doing alive when everyone around you keeps dying? Are you cursed? You must be. End it. For everyone's sake. Be fair to those that have passed on.
"Why is this happening to me?" I lift from my arms and yell with anger into the night.
I jump and scream when more lightning pops. This time the thunder sounds immediately. The storm must be currently brewing within the immediate vicinity. And I'm like an exposed target up here.
'What do you mean? Are you asking why you suddenly have an uncontrollable voice inside of your head, or why you have to be stuck, scared in a thunder storm?'
I gasp, completely caught off guard by the inner voice taking on its own accent and thoughts... Unless, I've gone completely insane and can't determine where my own thoughts are leading anymore.
Testing: one, two, three. Please, don't answer me...
I breathe out in a sigh of relief when nothing talks back. But the relief is interrupted by a vein of lightning blazing across the sky. I throw my arms back over my head and tremble, from the cold as much as from the renewed fear washing over me.
"Something must be wrong. I managed to divert my crippling terror in trade of talking to myself."
What a terrible night this has been! From behind closed eyes, a memory of the accident earlier cuts in, making all the pain from before come rushing to the forefront, assaulting me threefold. I still can't believe it happened. Recalling it makes me feels like I'm literally withering. How can he be gone? If I just called for him, wouldn't he come running to my rescue like always?
Thunder crashes and I almost don't hear my inner voice's warning: 'The night is about to get much worse.'
'Shut up!' I yell inwardly. Somehow, the thought sounds differently than normal in my head. Weird...
I don't want to be talking to myself! I just want him back! I think I seriously loved him...
A fresh wrenching twists my chest. I put a hand over it as every heartbeat gives off sharp pangs. The dam I'd used to lock in all my emotions was crumbling.
"Uhg!" I grunt as heat starts coursing my innards. It's so hot! A sharp contrast against the ice my skin has become.
"I must have caught something from being out here so long," I try reasoning while crossing both of my arms over my racing heart and smashing my face into the hard bricks underneath me. It's hardly any comfort, but some of the pent up tears release in an explosive rush.
Within a few minutes, the damp, musty, concrete smell makes me sneeze. I lift away from them just as a strike of lightning rams the earth some far off distance in front of me. The thunder rolls noisily across the land, making me pale further before the noise waves over our town.
And, strangely, I feel like laughing. I'm seriously daring Fate, aren't I?
My body suddenly feels tingly, as if I've recently suffered from poor circulation. Before I can react to this, something inside shifts and something else cramps. My heart flips and my stomach lurches from the horrible combination.
Knowing I'm about to be sick, I manage to extend and reach to the falling rain outside. If anyone is directly down below, they have their umbrella to protect them. I gag on the bitter taste of the upcoming acid, feeling my stomach scrunch to fully empty itself.
"W-what is wrong w-with me!" I sputter when I can. Is something the matter mentally, or physically with me? It's kind of hard to tell now.
Something slithers along my spine. I turn immediately – distracted from my hurling – to see if the impossible has happened; to see if a snake has crawled up here with me. Nothing is on me, at least. Turning back and coughing once, my throat seems swollen and so very, very dry. I'm tempted to twist towards the rain and drink, but it'd take too much careful balancing and effort.
Instead, I'm content to hang partially off the edge. The rain soon throughly soaks part of my upper back. The wind sways my hanging hair, which looks much longer than it should. Perturbed by the sight, I try to pull myself back into my little spot, but can't. I can't shift much at all, in fact. This isn't right... Since when did I become too big to fit up here? Strangely, I don't feel much panic at this, even when lightning flashes above my exposed torso.
That more than anything brings fear trickling into me. When did I become so detached from everything?
My skin suddenly feels extremely tight and too stretched. I holler as my back turns to fire. Squirming, I come close to falling the long distance down more than once. The burning turns into an unbearable digging sensation. Whatever is digging is trying to come out, and it's about to burst from me.
"Oh, God!" I cry towards the threatening sky. From down below, someone screams. The sound reminds me of the day's previous chaos. I grit my teeth, hard, against the unexplainable pain, but manage to search the grounds below for that scream. A woman glances from an upwards tilted umbrella. Her features aren't in good detail, but I can tell she is pointing at me.
I watch, trembling in a fresh wave of agony, as a few men and women; all with deliberate movements; gather near the base of the tall clock tower to view me. Lightning flashes, illuminating everything, and people gasp in disbelief at my vividly highlighted form. Surely I am to fall from this prone position? It does seem like my small space is getting even smaller.
"Hold on!" one man yells. "I'm coming to help you!" He hurriedly disregards his umbrella and disappears into the front of the clock tower.
"Hurry!" a woman shouts. "He must be sick!"
Whether she means sick from being exposed to the weather, or sick in the head for being up here in the first place, I have no idea.
Lady, you'd be right with either choice.
Every thought is forcefully yanked away to make room for the pain that comes ripping through me. It's a sharp, repeating current. I thrash, hammered by it, gripped too hard with it to get enough breath to even yell out. The world unexpectedly turns upside-down and a course of blood-curdling screams echo from the collection of watchers below.
I twist in mid fall, somehow just managing to grab a hold of my gritty ledge. My whole body, especially my back, protests the rough movement. Although my feet quickly find purchase to aid me in lifting my weight, my fingers feel like they will break and snap off from the iffy hold at any second. Both arms are stretched at too awkward of an angle over my head to do much. And since I can barely hang on, trying to lift enough to hook an elbow back over my previous ledge would be a definite fatal mistake.
"I'm stuck!"
I glance the long distance to the stones below. Never have I been so scared of any height.
'You should just let go.'
"No! Hang in there fingers!"
"Hey!" a close, out-of-breath voice yells. It sounds like the man that had parted from the people to rush into the tower. I know they have access to the clock tower secured, so he had to have busted his way in. There's no way he could have found and fit into my secret entrance, especially with how fast he got up here.
"He's to your left, about to fall!" the woman that had hurried him before shouts out. More worried talk erupts from the growing crowd. I can hear the continuous murmurs as a constant hum.
"Speak if you can hear me!" the man shouts, trying to locate me. Blinking past the rain, I see him stick his head and shoulders out from the window a few yards to my left. It's the same one I'd used to get out here. The wind gives a fierce tug, nearly prying me out of my already precarious grip. Lightning forks above.
The circumstances seem so surreal. My brain; already overloaded from the events of earlier; is really have trouble comprehending this. I mean, it just can't be happening. And as scared as I am, I should be even more scared, right? Death is something that no one is certain about.
"Just go away! It's too dangerous!" I struggle to say when all I really want to do is call out for his help.
He cranes his neck to see me, having to look further down than he originally expected. Urgency spreads across his firm features as he contemplates worriedly what all it is he is going to have to do to get me back up safely.
"It'd take an inhuman amount of upper body strength to pull me up from the angle you'd have to reach from if you dare come!" I point out, grunting as pain slices through my back. Is it getting worse back there? The cold, pounding rain is making it hard to tell.
"I'm going to help you, just you wait and see!" the man exclaims and begins stepping out from the window, carefully balancing on the tiny edge of it. He looks scared half to death. He's obviously not familiar with heights. Maybe I should dub him 'hero wanna-be'.
'Fool,' my inner voice barks.
I fail to argue further with either of them. I just don't have the heart to. My fingers are now numb, I'm shivering and soaked, I'm insane and I'm also about to die. If I try to maneuver even a little to lift myself back up over the ledge, I'll lose my weak grip without question and fall. But, I've got to try, before this man can risk his life in any futile efforts.
I glance back to the unknown man, preparing for the last ditch effort I'm going to have to make. He's perched about a foot from the window on a rough, protruding design that lines around the tower, his hands tightly grabbing some of the crevices marring along the structure. It's the same path I always use to come out here, but his heavier, fully grown form is having a lot of difficulty balancing on it. His short, dark-colored hair whips about him as more wind blows around us. Lightning flares and I flinch, but not as much as he does. For in that instant, he looks at me.
"Demon," he gasps in utter shock. I'm not exactly sure what he saw, but it causes his hold to slip.
"NO!"
Something screams deep inside in fury as I let go, falling with and reaching for the man at the same time. Isn't this what the voice wanted? For me to let go? Maybe it's because I want to help, not give in to it. Although, letting go was an act of pure ignorance on my part. To my credit, I hadn't had a prayer previously, anyway.
The overwhelming sensation of plummeting hits, making me feel weightless; empty. I won't feel like that once I hit.
The man's form and mine stretch across the expansion of the night. I scrunch my eyes shut against the sight of the horrified people below, seeing their many bizarre expressions and the cobblestones etched firmly behind my lids before flinging them wildly back open. I reach with all the range I've got to the dark-haired man. The cold rain appears to hover between us as we fall steadily with the droplets. But, we're slick with them. Whenever the tips of my fingers actually touch they slip right off.
Wide, glassy, brown eyes stare at me. He appears to have lost the ability to scream, though I almost expect him to fight me in midair as I determinedly hook a few fingers into his cotton sleeve and pull him towards me.
Something shifts under my t-shirt. I scream as pain like nothing I've ever felt digs trenches through me. It lifts my skin – I can feel mounds pressing against my wet shirt and I think I might faint.
Ear-splitting shrieks bring me out of my dazed stupor. Time must be slowing down. We've only fallen about halfway. Unbelievable. Haven't we been falling forever already? Seems like it.
The ground closing in brings forth plenty of terror, but my vision goes hazy with red as more pain suddenly explodes.
Unable to resist the urge to stretch foreign muscles, white-hot heat completely engulfs my back. My shirt yanks and rips as cracking gristle sounds. Glowing white wings burst into sight, and then my consciousness gets pulled backwards. It's the only way to describe the phenomenon. And yet, I feel as though I could careless. Why? This sudden detachment is infuriating.
I hear a snap and a rustling of many feathers, as well as many sharp gasps as the now much more pronounced faces watch with mixtures of terror, confusion, and shock. Though, some have the beginnings of smiles. Maybe they understand what is going on with me.
Everything jolts as the wings begin to lift and expand, attempting to steer the rushing wind. Somehow, or another, something is angled wrong and everything ends up in a slight spin. The ground is too close to have time to properly correct it. I blink, forcing myself to maneuver and shield the man somehow still in my grasp. My muscles don't want to respond at first, but the command breaks through whatever waters are clouding my nervous system. For a split second, I didn't think I'd be able to overcome the hold of whatever insanity has gripped me.
I almost level out as I lock the wings straight out, falling back first. People scream and dive out of the way, cobblestones rush past in a sweeping blur. My shoulder clips a wooden crate that's outside a shop's door. The man is brutally flung out of my arms as the crate splinters and I'm knocked to skid along the road's hard surface. I leave a trail of bright crimson all the way to the bed of flowers I rag doll in. I press a hand against the rich, muddy soil, trying to lift out of it. My left cheek is buried and hidden within the muck. Or, hell, maybe I'd scraped it off. I can't tell. My sense of touch has thankfully gone numb. Suddenly weary, my eyes fall closed.
All the background noise unravels in the inky darkness.
Out of the black, footsteps eventually come, as well as hysterical shouting. The sounds of a fire engine echo in the distance. Sensation flickers back on, bringing cold wetness, and a masquerade of throbbing aches that should be much worse than they are. Is someone's hand on me?
So, I'm an angel? I've got to be mistaken. My heart just isn't pure enough and life is just too confusing to me for it to be so. Fate can't be mocking me this much.
"You tell me," my lips form the words without my consent. The voiced accent sounds exactly like that of my inner voice from before.
The father I never knew has something to do with this. How I'm so certain, I don't know, but then again, I don't seem to know a lot of things.
"You are dead. Let everything go and quieten down. Be at peace now."
What?
I try to open my eyes, to no avail. Next, I try to move, but I can't make anything budge.
"Hey, answer me! Wake up!" Someone yanks me out of the wet soil, but I can barely tell as it feels like I'm getting swept away into a tunnel.
"Be more careful! Do you know what that is that you're holding?" The outside frenzy becomes more distant by the second.
"This is an unfortunate accident, like before. However, it is you that has been caught up in the middle this time. It is your turn to rest." The voice murmurs so quietly, that I doubt anyone can hear him speaking out loud.
'I don't understand... any of this,' I manage to direct, all the while I'm slipping under oblivion. It's like a thick spell weaving over me.
"I have come to set you free. I am your angel. Goodbye, Hibine."
Absolute silence greets my already absolute darkness. A sensation of rotation comes. It's disorientating. Then, there's nothing at all.
-)*(-
A/N: I request R&R! Which does not mean 'rest and relaxation', nor does it mean 'railroad'. You can make my inbox very happy, and give my morning a kick-start since I can't have caffeine to do that for me.
